The Final Kill
by Fuhrer Fettt
Summary: The Final Kill of a tribute in the 150th Hunger Games. One-shot. R&R please. Rated M for extreme violence.


**One-shot fic about a District 1 Male Career Tribute's last kill in the 150****th**** Hunger Games. The second rebellion has failed; Katniss, Peeta, and all the others who rebelled have been publicly executed.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****The Hunger Games****, ****Catching Fire****, or ****Mockingjay****, although I wish I did. I envy Suzanne Collins.**

Finally, it was between me and him. All the other Tributes are gone. Dead. Never to return. I had hunted Maluku, for this was the name of the one Tribute I had yet to kill. His training score, 7, was nothing too special. It was actually a downright disgrace, considering he was a Career. I would enjoy this. Very much.

My name is Derrick. I'm sixteen years old. I'm 6'6", and weigh about 250lbs. It's all muscle. My dog, Fenrir, is, in all actuality, a wolf. I was allowed to bring him into the Hunger Games because it was a Quarter Qwell. This year, every Tribute was allowed to bring one pet. I, of course, chose Fenrir. As some Tributes were too poor to afford pets, they completely lost the benefit of this year's Quarter Qwell. Too bad for them. Maluku was one such Tribute.

I smiled inwardly at the thought. It would just make it that much easier for me. But outwardly, my face was a grim mask of determination. I was close to his campsite. I could tell because Fenrir's nose and ears were twitching. Slowly, I approached the tree line. I could see his campfire. He was asleep by the fire. How careless. One other Tribute left in the Games, and you build a fire and fall asleep by it. Seriously, how stupid can you get?

I didn't want this to be over too quickly so I snuck up right behind. I stood up behind him. I took a pot of boiling water from the fire. I emptied the pot out on top of his head. His screams pierced the night as he awoke. He immediately sprang to his feet and sprinted into the darkness. I heard a dull thunk and went to investigate. I found him sprawled unconscious next to a broken branch. I laughed. He had knocked himself out. I quickly bound him up with some rope I was carrying and brought him back to his campsite.

After stringing him up, I sat down and prepared myself a meal, waiting for him to wake up. A few hours later, he awakes with a startled cry.

"Good morning sunshine." I say with an obviously fake smile.

"Let! Me! Down!"

I ignore him now, and return my attention to my meal. After I finish, I toss the scraps to Fenrir. Then an idea strikes me. The audience wants a show, so I'll give 'em one.

I go to work with one of my axes. Soon, I have a stump for a table. I reach for Maluku's hand. He seems to sense what is coming and tries to pull away. He does not succeed. I take out a knife from my belt. I place his hand on the table. I pick the knife up and swing it down onto his fingers, cutting them all off. Maluku screams again, and I get another idea. I head over to the fire and grab a burning stick. I sear the ends of his fingers to stop the bleeding. I didn't know a boy was able to produce such a high pitched scream. I smiled.

I repeated the process on his other hand, and then on his toes. I fed Fenrir the fingers and toes as a treat. He enjoys those parts the best. All the while, Maluku is screaming. Night comes too quickly. I bed down, safe with the knowledge that there were no other Tributes left. It was the best sleep I've had since I came into the arena.

When I wake up, I find Maluku in the same position I left him in, asleep. I get another brilliant idea. I build a fire below Maluku. When it's big enough, I place a large cauldron full of water beneath him. It takes about half an hour for it to reach its boiling point. Slowly, I lower the now awake Maluku into the boiling water. Again, I'm shocked at how much noise a male human can generate. When his legs have sufficiently been boiled down to bone, I cut of both his legs and then burn the bloody stumps with another branch. I toss the legs to Fenrir, because I know how much he loves bones. Again, darkness comes so quickly. I sleep until first light. I do the same to his arms as I did with his legs. By now, I'm running out of body parts. Then I realize his chest is still relatively intact.

I place a knife blade in the fire. When the blade has reached a red color, I turn to Maluku. His eyes are full of fear and pain.

"Please." Is all he can manage.

I think about it for a little. "No." And that's when I turn his chest into a tic-tac-toe board. A scream grips the morning.

"It's your turn Maluku." I say.

"Upper right corner"

I nod and carve an X into his right shoulder. Another scream. Now, it's my turn. I place and O in the middle of his stomach. I never realized until now how much I love tic-tac-toe. The screaming is getting a little annoying, though. I decide I've given the audience enough of a show, though I'm not sure if they'd agree. I'll just ask 'em.

"Hey! Gamemakers! Should I kill him now? And if I should, have a little poll as to how I should do it!" I shout to the sky.

I realize that it is getting dark again. I pull the blanket over my body, and drift into a dreamless sleep.

When I wake up, I'm not very surprised to see a silver parachute and a package lying on the ground next to me. I open the package and see a scrap of paper and a spoon. Confused, I read the slip of paper.

_Greetings Derrick. It has been decided that Maluku shall be terminated. The audience has also voted on the best way to kill him. The most votes were given to choice B, cut out his heart with a spoon. You shall find said utensil enclosed within this package. May the Odds ever be in your Favor._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Head Gamemaker Traven_

I grab the spoon and walk over to Maluku. I take him down and re-tie him to the ground. This taken care of, I sit on his stomach. His eyes, although still full of pain, are relieved. He hopes for a quick death. He believes a quick death is coming. He's dead wrong. I carve a circle over his heart, using the dull spoon. I don't think he has ever screamed louder. It grows louder and higher-pitched until I reach his heart. I reach into the hole I have carved into his chest, and rip out his heart. Abruptly, a cannon sounds, cutting of his screams. I whistle to Fenrir, calling him to my side. We make our way away from the body so it can be collected. As the hovercraft lands in front of us, and as I climb aboard with Fenrir, I only feel the joy and satisfaction of a job well done. I smile for real for perhaps the first time since I volunteered, and realize, I'm going home.


End file.
